To Babel and Back
by RedShirtSurvivor
Summary: Uhura meets Spock's parents on the way to the neutral planetoid Babel. This is a sort-of-sequel to my other story Journey to Uhura, but it should stand on its own. Established S&U with strong undertones of S&A
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **This is my take on Nyota meeting Spock's parents on the Journey to Babel. I've read fics where Sarek is down right rude (which is totally plausible) but I don't plan to go that route. Our original Uhura is incredibly charming and we already know that Sarek has a soft spot for human females. This should be pretty angst free and kind of fluffy if I'm being honest.

As always, I welcome questions, comments and constructive criticism. ST doesn't belong to me I just think about it A LOT!

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><p>Nyota had been looking forward to getting to know the Ambassador and his wife—her in-laws—but circumstances kept them on totally different parts of the ship. She was on the Bridge, working double shifts, sending damage reports, repair reports, and updating frantic governments who'd gotten word of the entire incident. She was coding and encrypting every transmission to the highest degree and decoding and decrypting every message that they received. Meanwhile, Spock and his father were still in sickbay with Lady Amanda was at their bedsides. Honestly, Uhura would have preferred to be tending to her husband as well. But she was an officer and sometimes—especially when there was nothing she could really do—that took precedence.<p>

At the merciful end of her shift, she moved to get on the turbo lift and stumbled, nearly tumbling to the floor.

"Lass! When's the last time you had a lie down," Mr. Scott asked, propping her up by the arm.

"Before we picked up the Vulcan delegation," she admitted as she tried to right herself. "So what's that, three— four days?"

"You've got to get to your quarters. Let me walk you down."

"I need to stop by sick bay."

"I'm still going to walk you." He escorted her below deck and left her in McCoy's office, but only after tattling. "She hasn't slept for over 72 maybe 96 hours."

"Oh, feeling left out are we? Trying to earn yourself a bed in my sickbay?"

"No doctor, but there's a lot of damage control to be done when the captain and first officer are out of commission and there's been a murder aboard a Federation Starship carrying over a hundred delegates to a major conference. And said ship was almost destroyed by a non-Federation vessel. It's just me, Scott and Sulu up there. And Scott's been spending most of his time effecting repairs. He probably needs sleep as much as I do."

"So you know you need sleep and yet you're here."

"I need to see him."

The doctor sighed, but the sadness in her voice prevented him from discouraging her any further. "He's one lucky green-blooded bastard. Ten minutes. No more!"

"No less."

She glanced into the recovery ward. Kirk was out like a light, and Lady Amanda was sitting in a chair next to the Ambassador dozing, awkwardly resting her head on his bed. Sarek was examining his wife, trying to figure out an optimal position for her to rest in since she refused to leave. Spock was in the lotus position on top of the covers looking at a PADD, presumably reviewing a report.

"Commander," she said quietly.

"Lieutenant. You should be resting." He sensed through their bond that she was exhausted. She'd pushed her mind and body far beyond any reasonable parameters. She was actually focused on staying upright, leaning against the door jamb.

"I just came to check on everyone."

"I am well enough to return to duty." He said loud enough for McCoy to hear from the other room. Sarek looked to his son and raised an eyebrow. Spock caught his eye and quickly looked away.

Because they were in recovery, neither of them was wasting energy shielding against the familial bond. It was also a comfort to Amanda, who rarely got to experience the full strength of the connection. When the young woman walked in the room he felt a change in his son, like engines going from quarter impulse to best warp. He detected relief, concern, _adoration_, possessiveness, protectiveness. This must be the human wife Amanda had alerted him to before they left Vulcan.

He originally thought it was the nurse, the way she fawned over Spock. He seemed friendly with her, but didn't treat her like a mate. Then he felt his reaction to _this _woman and knew for sure. He also noted a small, nearly invisible blemish on her collarbone—an old mark. Moreover, under the fading fragrance of her perfume, he detected Spock's scent. She definitely belonged to his son.

"Good evening, Ambassador."

"Father, I present she who is my wife, Lieutenant Nyota Uhura."

She looked almost horrified. Sarek had no idea what kind of reaction she was expecting. He could only imagine what her perception of him must be if Spock was the one telling the stories.

"I've gathered as much."

"It's an honor to meet you, Sir."

"It is agreeable to make your acquaintance."

"Is Lady Amanda alright? She looks a bit uncomfortable."

"She will not listen to reason." Spock answered. "She refuses to sleep in the quarters assigned to them."

"It is most illogical" the older man agreed.

Nyota had the privilege of exchanging a few subspace letters and live comms with her mother-in-law. She was extremely fond of her. They were fond of each other. She should at least try to get her to rest comfortably before leaving. She pushed herself from the wall and crossed the room.

"Lady Amanda," she whispered, laying a tender hand to her back. "Lady Amanda." She came around slowly, blinking several times to orient herself. "It's me, it's Nyota. You should go get some sleep."

She stretched and yawned, shaking her head. "I'm alright, Dear. It's good to see you, in the flesh I mean."

"It's good to see you too. But come on, let's get out of here and get some sleep."

"I'm fine, really."

Sarek came as close to frowning as he ever did and gave Uhura a look that must have been the Vulcan equivalent of "see, what did I tell you". She flashed a sleepy, but hopeful smile in return before returning her attention to the other woman.

"But, it may slow the Ambassador's recovery if he's concerned with your well-being more so than his own. You resting is aiding in his recuperation. Spock too."

"Her reasoning is sound, My Wife. The most effective way for you to assist me at this stage is to care for yourself."

"Fine, just don't tell me that it's logical."

"But it is logical, Mother. I wish for Nyota to adhere to her own advice. Go rest."

"You're always kicking me out. I'm leaving. I can barely stay on my feet anyway. Lady Amanda?" She held her hand out to her and she took it, warmed by the affectionate gesture. It was such a rarity. "Good night, Sir."

"Ms. Uhura." He nodded, impressed by her ability to sway his stubborn wife. He waited until they left the room to speak again. "You have never been a traditionalist, Spock, but I never believed that you take a human wife. You, perhaps more than anyone, understand the hardships of such an arrangement. Why did you do it?"

"I see no reason to provide you with an answer you already have. I did it for the same reason that you did."

He recognized his son's defensiveness. He never understood why he should have to justify his choice of mate either. And in all the years she'd been his wife he never gave an answer beyond saying that it was the logical thing to do. It was no one else's affair that he enjoyed her smile and her laugh, that he found her alien looks intoxicating. And if he liked to hear her tell him she loved him every once in a while, it was no one else's concern.

"Then it was logical."

"Indeed."

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><p>I actually looked it up, the longest a human can go without sleep is four days (96 hours). But the ridiculous nature of this schedule will be dressed int he next chapter.<p>

**TBC.**


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: A huge thank you to everyone who had responded to this story by reading, reviewing, favoriting and following. I am humbled. Constructive criticism and suggestions are welcome. ST isn't mine, just always on my mind.

So here's a bit of domesticity mixed with shop talk. And to everyone who has written a fic with Sarek as a central character, my hat goes off to you. He's a tough one!

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><p>She woke to find Spock ducking into his blue uniform shirt. She smiled, glad that he'd finally been released and cleared for duty. Sleepily, she turned and checked the time on her PADD. Immediate panic. She had exactly 17 minutes to get up, get dressed and get to her station. She untangled herself from the covers, frantically ran across the bed, past Spock, and into the bathroom.<p>

"Nyota," he called. But she was too busy with her hasty ablutions. "Nyota. Lieutenant!" His tone of voice caused her to give him her attention, toothbrush dangling from her mouth. "You are not listed for duty today."

"Yes I am. It's stardate—"

"I checked the duty roster. You worked consecutive double shifts and logged insufficient break time over that last 96 standard earth hours. Your schedule violated Starfleet policy and Federation labor laws."

"It was an emergency." She protested around a mouth full of foam.

"Irrelevant. There is an entire communications team; I fail to see why you did not delegate to your subordinates—as I was forced to do." He stood on one foot, graceful like a flamingo as he zipped his right boot.

"You were raised in a diplomatic household. You know top officials don't want to speak with just any officer; they want to speak with senior officers. The moment I put one of my team on the comm they were asked to transfer the call to their superior. Not to mention 101 updates to Starfleet, every hour on the hour. And all the heavy encrypting on all our transmissions, no one on my team is as good at that as I am. That's why I'm the chief, Commander." She put her toothbrush back in the antibacterial case, shed Spock's undershirt that she'd slept in, and stepped into the sonic shower.

"I am well aware of your abilities as an officer, Lieutenant. But you forget your limitations. It is unsafe for a human to go that long without sleep." He went to stand in the bathroom mirror; making sure his hair was as neat and flawless as always.

"I just got finished sleeping."

"Nyota, as your husband, I am asking you to get the required rest. As your Commanding Officer I am ordering you not to report or I will be forced to write you up for your earlier infraction."

"Write me up?" She yelled, peeking around the partition. "For doing my job?"

"For doing your job while you were impaired. There is no way you were preforming to your usual standard under such conditions. Likely, you were on the brink of madness. You could have endangered the ship."

"I would never—okay, Commander_. _ But what do you suggest? That I be useless all day?"

"_I _would never make such an illogical suggestion. Your continued usefulness is dependent on you getting the necessary rest to function."

"I can't believe you said that to me—endanger the ship." She exited the shower area wrapped in his bathrobe. He twitched his eyebrow at her. It wasn't logical, but it pleased him to see her in his clothes. "I'm mad at you."

"I can sense it. I do not seek to anger you, only to do my job as first officer and your bond mate."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but stood on her tiptoes to press her lips to his. All discord was instantly irradiated. They hadn't had the chance to be alone in more than a week. She had barely seen him in four whole days.

He deepened the kiss, enjoying the taste of mint on her breath and the feel of her pressed against him.

"I missed you." She said finally.

"You absence has been keenly felt." He swept her into his arms, kissed her again and carried her to the bed. He laid her down gently, allowing her—just for a second—to pull him along with her.

"Stay."

"I cannot, but I will return. In the meantime, you will rest." She started to object. "That's an order." But his voice didn't sound very authoritative, not even to himself.

She let him go, going completely limp in defeat. "I'm glad you're better. Have a good day." He kissed her one more time, actually regretting the fact that he had to leave.

After a few more hours of sleep, she couldn't stand the inactivity anymore. She dressed in her uniform just to get to her own quarters where she changed into to a long maxi dress with an African inspired print and matching head warp. She twisted it into a complicated and ornate fashion because she had nothing better to do. Once she was pleased with the way it looked, she applied her make-up in muted natural colors. When she was done, she set out to find Amanda.

She was glad when Amanda answered the door looking refreshed, knowing she hadn't woken her. "Nyota. You look lovely, come in."

"Thank you, Lady Amanda, so do you. How are you feeling?"

"I'm great now that Sarek had been released."

"I can relate. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, not yet. Should we get something together?"

"I'd like that."

They indulged in pancakes, eggs and bacon in the absence of their vegetarian husbands. They chatted amicably but generally as they ate. She told her about her family in Zambia, her choice to join Starfleet and how she and Spock got close enough to marry. Amanda talked about Vulcan and expressed how good it was to be around other humans after so long.

"I have a few close acquaintances on Vulcan; they've come to understand _my_ alien ways. But it gets tiring, never laughing or smiling, a casual friendly touch…I can really only be myself in the house. And even then in very small doses, for the sake of Sarek's nerves," she chuckled.

"Whenever I laugh or smile, Spock just gives me this look." She imitated his blank stare causing her mother-in-law to laugh out loud, recognizing that expression.

"He hasn't changed. I'm so proud of him and I'm so happy he has you. I hope he can find balance now."

"I'm happy to have _him_, Lady Amanda. I feel blessed."

She was grateful to hear Uhura say that. All she ever wanted was for Spock to find someone who could appreciate him exactly as he was.

They went back to their guest quarters, where they drank tea and listened to music. Amanda was able to introduce Uhura to some Vulcan and human artists that had become popular since she'd left for space. She was surprised at how much more complicated the Vulcan compositions were becoming. She would have to listen to them a few more times, probably with Spock, before she could properly appreciate them.

"Sarek likes to explain all the technicalities to me, but all I know is that is sounds lovely."

"It's very stirring for a people who work so hard to suppress their emotions."

"I think it's one of their last acceptable outlets. I've never heard a Vulcan song that wasn't charged with deep emotion. Then again, it could just be my humanity talking."

"I find it really difficult to play the ka'athyra without injecting emotion into it, even just the scales."

"You can't possibly play!"

"That's what Spock used to say…I'm getting better."

Amanda stood and disappeared further into the room only to return with a lyre. It was more ornate than Spock's, so much so that it seemed decorative. "Play me something." She tried to hand her the instrument but she waved her hand, too afraid to take it.

"I couldn't. That's the ambassador's and it looks to pretty to play."

"Oh go on. It'll be fine. He'll only mind if he finds out."

She accepted it tentatively and strummed so lightly she barely made a sound. Unsurprisingly, it was already perfectly tuned. She ran briefly through the scales, awing her small audience. She then started in on the first song she learned, the equivalent to a Vulcan nursery rhyme.

Sarek had enough of socialization for one day. He'd made the effort to play chess and converse with some of his more tolerable peers and now he sought solace in his quarters. He heard music coming from the room but assumed that it was just the player. Although why his wife was listening to such a simple song was beyond him. There were great symphonies in his collection that were much more worthy.

He passed through the door and was genuinely surprised to find that the music was being played live. More surprised to find that it was being played by a human. Being played live, by a human, on his prized instrument!

The lieutenant's back was to him, and she was presumably to rapt in her performance to have heard his entrance, but Amanda saw him and gave him a pleading look, speaking to him through the bond. _"I made her play it."_

"_Surely she could play her own husband's ka'athyra."_

"_Sarek, she tried to refuse. It's all my fault."_

She finished the childish ditty without error. Obviously, Spock was a superior teacher. He tried to teach Amanda, but the resulting sounds had been enough to put them both off the notion for good. He had assumed it was impossible for a human to grasp such complexity.

"That was a satisfactory performance, Ms. Uhura."

She jumped, clutching the lyre and rushing to her feet. She thrust it at him and folded her hands in front of her, looking to his wife for rescue. Spock must have painted a truly ogre-like image of him.

"Do you know any other songs?" He prompted.

"One, a Terran song called "Beyond Antares." Spock and I transcribed it for the ka'athyra ourselves. I'm in the middle of learning another Vulcan song; something a bit more sophisticated called "Let'theiri."

"I am familiar with this piece. It is a great deal more complicated that what you just played."

"That's why I want to learn it, Sir. I want to challenge myself."

Influenced by Amanda's insistent mental pleading, he motioned for her to sit back down while he took a seat himself. He handed her the lyre again. "Play me what you know so far. I will assess you." Both women beamed at him and he allowed himself a sigh.

She strummed the first few notes well. After that, the melody was discordant. He motioned for her to stop and give it back. It wasn't fitting for those kind of sounds to be coming from his harp.

"Listen." He played through the first and second verses as a demonstration. However, the dreamy looks he was getting from the two of them told him that she had not taken the practical lesson, but listened solely for pleasure.

"Sir, Spock told me that you were quite possibly the best player on your world, but still, I wasn't prepared for that."

"Your estimation is gratifying. But you failed to ascertain the true reason for my playing. I sought to educate you."

"I understand. For one, I had the pitch knob in the wrong position in the beginning and I need to able to adjust the touch-knobs while still strumming."

"Your finger placement was also problematic, it was imprecise. With the simpler song, you played on ten of the strings. "Let'theiri" requires you use all twenty eight. You should consider stretching your hands before starting."

"Thank you, sir. I'll take all of your expertise into consideration. But…would you mind playing the whole thing for us?"

"Oh, Sarek please?"

"Very well."

He played through the piece with relative ease. When he finished, they were wrapped around each other, cheeks pressed together, looking like longtime friends and not recent acquaintances. This was one of cultural differences that never ceased to confound him, but he sensed her joy and contentment and decided not to comment. Instead, he played another composition.

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><p>TBC.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** I genuinely appreciate every review, follow and favorite. Comments really help me in steering my stories in the right direction. This Chapter is a bit longer than my usual ones. I'm considering lengthening the chapters in general. Let me know if it works. This chapter is also a bit less fluffy, but it's nothing too intense.

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><p>The trip was now little more than a cruise. Starfleet was still demanding more updates than normal, but other than that it was completely uneventful. Tediously so. There were no scans to take, nothing to discover or investigate. They got a few reports of fights involving delegates, but nothing to keep <em>him<em> occupied. If her were human, he would have commented that it was boring. He was genuinely grateful for lunch, which he took in the Captain's mess with Jim and McCoy.

"Remind me to get off at the next exit for Andromeda if Starfleet ever asks me to chauffeur politicians again."

As illogical as the statement was, Spock agreed with the sentiment. This was surely one of their least enjoyable missions.

"It's not all bad Jim. Every time they come to blows, I get to patch up a new species. It's good practice."

"I'm glad you found the bright side, Bones. How's your Father, Spock? He's the only one not causing me any me trouble."

"I have not spoken with him on the matter but I believe he is fully recovered, Captain."

"You haven't asked about his health?"

"No."

"Spock, This feud between you and Sarek is out of hand. There was a long minute there when I thought I was going to have to give your mother some _very_ bad news—concerning both of you. And imagine if his heart attack had happened anywhere but _Enterprise_. We'd be having a different conversation right now."

"He's right, Spock. Life is too short, you know—even for a Vulcan."

He thought on his friends' advice for the rest of the day. Perhaps there was something to it. He had been _petrified_—and there was no less emotive word for it—that his father would die on the table.

After a brief meditation session, he decided to speak to Nyota about it. All her familial relationships were harmonious ones. Logically then, she must have expertise in this area.

They were lounging on the bed, his head resting on her lap while she massaged his temples. He thought this was a good a time as any to bring it up. "I request you guidance, adun'a."

"Guidance? What could you possibly need my guidance for?"

"The Captain and McCoy believe that I should try to make amends with my father. I am inclined to agree. I am at a loss as to what methods I should use, however."

"You want fix things with your father?" Her hands stopped abruptly as she moved them to rest over her heart.

"I believe I said that." Gently he moved her hands back to where he preferred they be. She stroked his face and leaned down to kiss him, smiling the whole time.

"I'm so proud of you."

"You have yet to give me any useful tactics for repairing my fractured relationship with Sarek."

"Well, think about this; remember Nzuri and I had that falling out?"

"You felt that eighteen was too young for her to be married and she felt that it was none of your affair."

"And we argued constantly for weeks! But I never stopped talking to her. Even during that time we talked every day. You and your dad have gone almost twenty years without a decent conversation. You need to start by talking to him—not about the science academy, not about anything." He raised a confused and skeptical eyebrow.

"How can one speak of nothing?"

"Nothing heavy. Don't talk about principles or philosophies. Stick to safe and neutral subjects. You two have plenty of common ground: music, your mother, aspects of earth culture that you think are agreeable or distasteful. Have a conversation with your father, and then maybe once you two are in a good place, you can have _the _conversation."

"With him, every conversation is _the _conversation."

She knew that was true. Spock had shown her before in melds the last few strained and uncomfortable talks they had before they stopped talking all together. Sarek seemed to have a talent for working Spock's choice to join Starfleet into every discussion. And small talk was a completely foreign concept on Vulcan. But if her husband was ready to reconcile, then she needed to do something before he changed his mind.

"Do you trust me?"

"I would not have married you otherwise."

"Good. I have a plan. Tell me you'll go along with it."

"I will follow your plan, so long as it is logically conceived."

"It'll _work_."

"Your evasion of my terms is disconcerting, but very well. I will defer to your wisdom in this situation."

"You always know just what to say."

She left him when he went into a deep meditative state. She went to Amanda—who she had been told to call mom—and recruited her.

"Where is the ambassador?"

"Meditating."

"Great, can you come back to my quarters with me?"

"Of course."

She served her tea before explaining the situation. She nearly dropped the cup when she heard it.

"He's ready to—really?"

"That's what he told me. But I don't think they'll really get anywhere by hashing it out right away. They've tried that before and it hasn't worked. I think they need to rebuild from scratch."

"I've tried that too. I can't tell you how many dinners have been left to go cold after they both excused themselves from the table."

"But you were by yourself, Mom. Two Vulcans against one human isn't a fair match in any fight. But two fiercely loving wives against two stubborn husbands is no contest." She winked. "We've got this one in the bag."

Step one was to get them comfortable with each other in relaxed setting. Next time she and Spock were off duty at the same time they would stop by the guest quarters and have a cocktail hour—sans actual cocktails. She and Amanda would direct the conversation and run any necessary interference.

"I've been doing the hand exercises you gave me, Ambassador. My dexterity is much improved!"

"Has your playing improved?" he asked flatly.

She laughed. "You'd have to ask Spock." He prompted him by angling his head toward him.

"It has improved but is still inadequate."

She ignored the sting and focused on the task at hand. "Can I show you?"

"Did you bring your ka'athyra?"

"No, sir."

"I will get it," Spock offered, wanting any excuse to leave for any amount to time.

"There is no need. Thanks to your mother, Ms. Uhura—Nyota, is very well acquainted with my instrument." She stretched her fingers while he went to retrieve it. Spock was taken aback. He hadn't been allowed to practice on Sarek's harp since he was given his own.

She exhaled heavily before she tried the first few notes. She made it through the first couple of bars acceptably but she wasn't meticulous enough with the key changes.

"I believe I spoke in haste. Get your ka'athyra, My Son. It will be necessary for instruction." He did as he was told and surrendered it to his father upon his return. "I will play and you will answer, Nyota."

"I'll try."

He played a quick chord progression and she duplicated it. He responded with one more complicated. She matched it. This continued until he played the section of the composition that had troubled her most. Her speed was considerably slower, but she did much better than she had just moments ago.

"Admirable."

"That was wonderful!" Amanda clapped excitedly. "Sarek, Spock play that piece I've always liked. What's it called?"

"The title translates to "I Must Depart.""

"Yes, play that for me. I haven't heard you two play it in years."

"Very well." They took their respective instruments and while they were occupied tuning them to each other, she gave Uhura a conspiring look.

They played beautifully with a harmony that seemed almost impossible. Before long, Amanda was in tears.

It was the first duet that he'd taught their son. He bought him his own lyre for the sole purpose of collaborating with him. Spock had been so happy and proud when he presented to him. He stood ramrod straight, fixed his face to give away nothing, and took it with both hands. Sarek was so patient with him then, adjusting his tiny fingers, giving countless demonstrations, even taking him to see it performed live. That was when Spock still worshiped Sarek and Sarek remembered what a miracle their hybrid prince was. She projected these memories very pointedly at both of them, daring them to shield against her.

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><p>Later, her deliberate audio visual suggestions forced their way into his meditation. There was a time when he and Spock had been of one accord. They both were gifted in a great many areas and they spent time exploring and developing those gifts. None of his acquaintances spent as much of their free time with their children as he did. That's why it was a betrayal when his son—the good one, the logical one, the sane one—turned his back on everything they built together and went to live among his mother's people. He didn't understand it. Spock was Vulcan, more so than most. Why he chose to waste his highly evolved talents in an over-militarized space exploration program was beyond him.<p>

He was hard on Spock, he knew that. But it was necessary. They were from a line of mavericks and free thinkers, sometimes for the better and sometimes for the worst. Without thorough discipline, he could easily go down the wrong path. He refused to fail him the way he'd obviously failed Sybok. Too much freedom had rendered him useless, a renegade. Spock had been a second chance, a last chance to get it right.

Spock's mind was beautiful. It was fast, strong, and well ordered. But glints of humanity filtered in like light streaming in through stained glass windows. A mind like that could do terrible damage if it were left untempered, and so he tempered it. Spock was required to meditate longer, train harder, and shield better than all his peers. So how had it ended up like this?

He was forced to admit that it had been enjoyable to play with him again. He had been such an agreeable companion in his youth—when he wasn't disobediently running into the mountains. There was a long period of years when he preferred the company of his son to all others. And all of a sudden, with one ill-conceived career choice, they could barely converse anymore. The son he had once been so attentive of was now a man he barely recognized. It was deeply regrettable.

Even as he meditated, he couldn't come to a conclusion. He couldn't condone Spock's actions—ever. And yet the thought of living another century—possibly two—without him was unfathomable.

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><p>Spock had not been expecting his father to initiate a conversation with him at any point during the trip. But about three quarters into the two week journey Sarek approached him.<p>

He swept into his quarters, hands clasped tight behind his back. They acknowledged each other with a nod and he handed him a PADD he'd been concealing. "I would have you review this composition."

He accepted the device. Just looking at the sheet music, he recognized the style as Sarek's own. His father's style was unique, a tense struggle between an ancient warrior and a modern logical diplomat.

"I am unable to find a suitable end for it. I thought that perhaps "a pair of fresh eyes" as your mother would say, might be beneficial."

"I come to serve. I will review it in my spare time."

"Very well. I have noticed that your wife and your mother have found each other's company to be exceedingly agreeable."

"Indeed. They have remarked that they love each other. Mother expressed to me that if she had a daughter, that one would be much like Nyota."

"I believe that to be true."

There was an awkward silence that neither of them knew what to do with.

Remembering his conversation with Nyota and with his friends, Spock invited his father to have a seat. This had been much easier with the two humans acting as a buffer. Now they just stared, waiting for the other to break the silent contract they had not to breech the real issue.

"I had considerable free time during my temporary retirement. I have written several pieces, yet none have vexed me so much as this."

"I believe this is the most intricate of your works."

"As I said, I had considerable free time."

He was almost amused. The image of a bored Sarek writing over complicated songs because he had nothing better to do was humorous.

"Do you care for a beverage? My wife's mother sent a Terran brew of tea that is very palatable."

He simply bobbed his head. He waited as while Spock left the room to prepare the drinks. It was strained, nothing like it had been, but it was much improved from a few days ago. He inspected the room as he waited. It was decorated with many artifacts, ones he brought from home and a few new ones including an exquisite hanging. A star chart embroidered with metallic thread and gemstone beads. There were almost no human or female touches. Despite his marital status, his space was still his own. So like Spock.

He returned carrying a tray with two steaming mugs. The scent was promising.

"I have done extensive research into this particular variety. It is abundant in health benefits for humans. I find that it has a calming effect on the nervous system and aids in meditation."

"Very good." He sipped at it, undeterred by the heat. It was a very pleasing flavor. He inquired after it more specifically. His son was able to describe everything. He knew the kingdom and species of the plant, how the tea was produced, the optimal brewing temperature and alternative methods of consumption, namely adding sweeteners. He let him talk. Amanda would have commented that he was on a roll. That happened to him often when he spoke of a subject that interested him. He had always found it fascinating to listen to him when he went on like this. "Yes," he began at length. "But where might I purchase it?"

"The most efficient method would no doubt be the internet, although it would be very difficult to be sure of the quality of the product before it is consumed."

"Easily rectified. I will buy the same brand that your wife's mother has."

"That will not be possible. You'd have to make a trip to Earth. As I understand it, this exact blend is sold only in small loose leaf batches from a shop near Nyota's childhood home. We received this most recent shipment by means of a freighter. Her parents have unprecedented access to various resources. Perhaps, if you wish, I could arrange for Mrs. Uhura to send some to Vulcan."

"I would be most gratified by such a gesture."

So this was what she meant by speaking of nothing. Music and tea were not vital issues by any definition. They were pleasures, indulgences. And yet they discussed them. And while they discussed them, he didn't think about the last eighteen years, not in those moments. In those moments, he thought only of the topics at hand and he had been able to have a civil conversation with his father. It was like having a lead weight lifted from his chest, just long enough to take in gasps of air.

* * *

><p>TBC. But almost there...<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I start every chapter by saying thank you because I'm truly grateful for all your responses, so again, thank you. ST isn't mine, unfortunately.

Translations: **kaiidth: **philosophy - what is is; **kroykah:** stop immediately

* * *

><p>Uhura sat at her station, monitoring transitions, grateful that there were no abnormalities. The planetoid was now in range. She hailed them and gave the ETA. There was no telling how long the conference would take and if <em>Enterprise<em> would be the ship to take them all back. So Uhura took her ten minute break and went to Amanda's guest quarters.

"Mom?"

She was emptying the contents of the drawers and dressers back into her suitcase. "Sarek said it was illogical to unpack, knowing we wouldn't be here long, but did I listen?"

She stepped further into the room, slowly, melancholy. _"_Mom…._Enterprise_ may not be the ship to take you back."

She stopped abruptly, unceremoniously dropping one of her veils into the kit. "Oh. That's…"

"I know. This might be good bye, or maybe just see you later."

"It will always be "see you later" between the two of us, My Dear." She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around her. "You're like a daughter to me."

"I love you too, Mom. And if I don't see you, Spock and I will come to Vulcan after Space Dock."

She pulled back, dashing the tears from her cheeks. She smiled as brightly as she could manage. "Yes, of course. Oh, you'll love it. I'll have everything ready for you."

"Thank you. But, I—I'm worried about Spock and The Ambassador. They have so much work to do. Another two weeks would do them both some good."

"I know. And yet, they've done so much work already. Last night while you were in the sensor lab, they were her working on a piece of music together. It was so much like old times. I felt it, how content they both were. Maybe Sarek is finally embracing kaiidth in this situation. I hope so."

"I don't care how illogical they think it is I'm going to pray for them."

Amanda chuckled softly. On paper, this was the last woman Spock should have picked. And in a way, maybe that was why he had. He had a habit of doing the opposite of what was expected of him. She had come on the ship hoping to see humanity in her son, and it seemed like it was all here in his wife.

Once the delegates started to disembark, Nyota barely had time to breathe. She was glad she said her goodbyes ahead of time. From her post, she received reports of every successful beam down and shuttle flight. Spock had done an excellent job of organizing the exodus and it went smoothly, but all the coming and going was still somewhat dizzying.

"The Galileo is now in the launch-bay and ready for the next party. Lieutenant Michaels is relieving Lieutenant Manet as pilot. The Andorian delegation has beamed down and checked in. And the Copernicus is awaiting permission to depart, Captain."

"Give Copernicus the go ahead. "

"Yes, sir." After a while, the last of the passengers was off the ship. There was a collective sigh from the whole crew. "Babel reports all expected delegations checked in. We are now being ordered to break orbit for security purposes, Captain."

"Warp factor two Mr. Sulu. Steady as she goes."

They completed three missions in the time it took the delegates to reach any kind of consensus. By that time, everyone was haggard. Even the therapeutic shore leave on Argelius II had turned into a disaster. Seeing her in-laws would be a pleasure.

She was put to work again once everyone was back aboard. She submitted reports to Starfleet and The Federation along with the planets represented at the conference. Encrypting all of them was a feat in and of itself, but she loved the work and the concentration it took. It did for her what meditation did for Spock.

She had been expecting to find her mother-in-law inside when she entered the guest quarters but was greeted by the Ambassador instead. They had never been alone in the same room before and all of a sudden he seemed to be a much more foreboding presence.

"Ambassador."

"Lieutenant. I assume you have come for my wife."

"Yes, Sir. Is she available?"

"She is resting. Long periods of travel are taxing for her."

"I see." She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. "Was the conference successful?"

"It was productive. Spock?"

"He has the conn overnight."

"Indeed. Have you continued to practice?"

"Oh yes. Even Spock says that I'm improving. It still doesn't sound good enough to me, but he keeps reminding me that I'm human and the fact that I can play anything at all is somewhat impressive."

"He is correct. Yet your current understanding suggests that you may yet gain mastery. It would be wise to continue to practice with the goal of playing the piece without error."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you." She took a seat at the desk opposite him. "I heard the piece that you gave Spock before you left. It's beautiful."

"Has he been able to complete it?"

She shook her head. He had been through at least a dozen possible endings and found all of them lacking. Her untrained ear thought they had all been wonderful, but she trusted his expertise.

"It is difficult. I will have considerably less time to work on it now that my retirement has ended."

"Oh, I bet they were eager to have you back!"

"Indeed. I have already been given my next assignment."

"Really? Congratulations!"

He resisted the urge to tell her that congratulations were illogical in this situation. His wife would have reminded him that it was simply an expression of good will. He also remembered that the appropriate response would be "thank you." She smiled at his expression of gratitude.

Small talk was not a Vulcan custom, but he learned the skill from Amanda and compared to his peers, he had mastered the art. It put most other species at ease and often aided in later negotiations.

"Has you work proven satisfactory during our absence?"

"Yes. I just came from the communications lab. My work is fulfilling."

"That is agreeable."

"Still…"she trailed off. He hated when people did that. If there was more that need to be said then it ought to be said.

"Continue."

"You'll think it's silly, illogical."

"I'm sure. Continue."

She laughed. "I really would like a leave. I want to go shopping."

"Shopping? Ah, yes. Human females consider this to be a form of rehabilitation. The term is retail therapy, is it not?"

"Yes! I didn't think you'd know that." He bent his head in the Vulcan equivalent of a shrug.

"This_ is_ illogical, but not unfamiliar. My wife has expressed similar sentiments many times. Unfortunately, I have no solution for you at present."

"Oh that's alright. I have no solution either."

"Indeed. It is now my meditation hour, Nyota." The tone of his voice let her know she wasn't being slighted.

"Of course, good night."

"Rest adequately."

She simply inclined her head and left the room, suddenly missing Baba horribly.

* * *

><p>Amanda insisted that she, Sarek and Spock share breakfast. She wished Nyota wasn't on duty, but there was nothing to be done. It was more difficult without her. Sarek was absorbed with reading the new assignment he'd been given and Spock was equally invested in whatever he was looking at. She was so caught off guard when her son's deep voice broke the silence that she jumped.<p>

"Father, I have spoken with Fahari Uhura, the mother of my wife. She is able to send the tea to Vulcan."

"Good. Please relate to her that her service honors me."

"I have already taken the liberty of doing so. Her exact words were, "Don't mention it. Anything for family."

"Her definition of family is a broad one."

"I have found that to be the case among the Uhuras in general. She asked if there was anything else you wished from Earth. Mother?"

"Chocolate!"

"Amanda, I doubt that it will clear Vulcan customs."

"Fine, then I don't need anything." The excitement drained from her voice and disappointment covered her face.

"My wife is in possession of chocolate in her quarters."

"Don't lie to me, Spock!"

"Vulcans do not lie." They both reminded her.

"I still do not understand the human fascination with chocolate."

"Have you ever tired it?" She asked teasingly.

"Certainly not."

"Try it. Your father—"

"Amanda."

"What? Have I said something wrong?"

Spock turned his attention back to his work. He stole a glance at Sarek but looked away when their eyes met.

"It's really very harmless. It won't hurt you any more than a glass of wine hurts me."

"Wife."

"Alright. All I'm saying is that you shouldn't rule it out."

"kroykah."

"Fine."

"The tea will be more than sufficient. Please inform Mrs. Uhura that we require nothing else."

"I will do so, but I doubt that she will listen. She is overindulgent in matters of gift giving. She rarely confines herself to one thing. Her last 'care package' included clothes for my wife and I, several edible items, a new stylus for me and drawings from the children."

"Children? Your niece and nephew?"

He nodded. "Enam and Niara. They are five and three respectively."

"I want to see the drawings! They're darling aren't they?"

"They are not very life-like renderings."

"What do you expect from children so young? It's the thought that counts."

"So I've been told."

"I don't know how she puts up with you."

"Should I expect one of these care packages also?" The elder Vulcan asked evenly.

"Yes."

"Your forewarning is appreciated."

"I don't know how I put up with either of you. We'll be sure to reciprocate, Spock."

"I do not believe Fahari expects to be compensated in any way."

"Of course not, but we have to show her we appreciate all the trouble she went through."

"Very well." He turned to Sarek. "I find the human construct of gift giving to be mystifying."

"That is because it is illogical. Leave it to the Terrans, Son."

She frowned at the pair but took the victory. A whole meal without either leaving the table of speaking through gritted teeth. They had even reverted to calling each other father and son. It was more than she could've asked for a few weeks ago. Peace.

* * *

><p>The drawings were being kept in Nyota's quarters. They had been done on real paper with old style wax crayons. They had been framed and hung behind her desk. The first one was obviously supposed to be a big silver starship cutting through the black of space, sprinkled with bright yellow stars. The second, a brown stick figure with a red triangle dress had been labeled in big careful letters with the words "Auntie Nyota," and an arrow.<p>

"There's a third one. They drew Spock. He decided keep it in his room since it said "for Uncle Spock."

"He's actually keeping a child's drawing?"

"Tucked in his sock drawer."

Amanda giggled, totally overcome with delight. The idea of him keeping a juvenile picture was wonderful. He had barely made such drawing as a child himself. By the time he was five he was sketching for inventions or scribbling out equations. She had only been able to hang his work on the food stasis unit a handful of times. And once he got old enough, he practically begged her to take them down. He got Sarek in on his cause and now she kept the few little pages in a hope chest.

She was finally able to see the final piece in the series at dinner. They took their meal break to join them. The family opted out of the bustle of the mess hall and ate in the guest quarters at a small table. He brought the picture specifically for her to see.

It was marked as promised, "for Uncle Spock" written in big proud script in the lower right hand corner. Dead center was an olive toned stick man with a blue shirt and black pants draw directly on top of the body. Sitting off the side of the round head were two ears that came to a sharp point. The face was represented by two dots for eyes, an acute angle for the nose and a very straight line for the mouth.

"As I said, it is not a very life like rendering."

"On the contrary," Sarek said, setting his fork aside and taking the paper in his hand. "I see the resemblance."

Spock arched his brow and his lip twitched infinitesimally. His father's expression was much the same when he turned his attention to him.

"Yes, I think it looks just like you, Dear."

"I told you so." His wife added smugly.

Outnumbered, he took a sip of his juice and returned to his meal. Amusement so strong suffused the marital bond that Amanda laughed because Sarek could not.

* * *

><p>TBC.<p> 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: This chapter was weird and fun to write. I hope you enjoy it. ST isn't mine.

And of course a huge thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favorited and followed. You are all awesome. Don't hesitate to address any questions or concerns, I'm open to hear them.

* * *

><p>Amanda was so delighted that her husband and son were spending the evening together that she didn't dare disturb them, not even to try to make them eat. They were dissecting Sarek's composition line by line. Spock had actually wheeled in a white board. It was covered in Vulcan scribbles, musical notes and equations now. They were also recording possible endings, deconstructing them, putting them back together in entirely new ways.<p>

She busied herself with the box of chocolate that Nyota had been generous enough to give her, and the lesson plans she planned to implement upon her return to Vulcan. Despite the fact that majority of the planet seemed to think she belonged back on Terra, parents saw the logic in having their children taught standard by a native speaker and were eager to have her as their instructor. She enjoyed teaching and the younger the better. It was easier to reach Vulcan kids than adults.

She looked at the half empty box of candies and decided that maybe she should slow down. She would have to make it last until who knows when. And chances were, when Spock was gone, Sarek would indulge in a piece or two. Then he would give her a look that dared her to comment. She closed the lid, deciding to save some for him. He was a chatty drunk and she loved to hear him grouse about work and colleagues and watch his usually perfect face get screwed up with frustration and annoyance. Just the thought of it made her snicker.

The foreign sound drew the attention of both Vulcans, neither of whom seemed pleased with her distraction. She made a silent gesture of apology and turned her attention back to her work.

Spock finally left Sarek when his mediation hour came—he was very inflexible about his routine. They had come that much closer to finishing the song. Now they were entirely certain of what sound they were _not_ looking for.

He was surprised to find that Nyota was not in his room when he arrived. This deviation from the norm was decidedly unpleasant. They didn't spend every waking moment together, but she insisted on "being there when he got home," whenever she wasn't on duty. It was a tradition she'd inherited from her mother. At first, he said that it was unnecessary because it served no logical purpose. But it felt quite necessary at present.

He tapped into the bond and allowed it to direct him to her.

Upon entering her private quarters, he heard the sonic shower and saw her workout attire discarded just outside the bathroom door. He deposited the tiny shorts and sports bar in the refresher and waited for her to exit.

She emerged in a short silk robe and slippers. "Hey, Sugar. I'm sorry, were you looking for me?"

"Indeed."

"The Universal Translator needed to be recalibrated—again. I think you're going to need to take a look at it."

"Noted. Is the mechanical failure featured in your report?"

"Affirmative." She shed her dressing gown hung it in the closet before slipping into on one of her caftans. "Anyway, I was late getting off, so I had to push back my training, which threw off my whole schedule."

"That sounds most inconvenient."

"Yeah, but these things happen sometimes. I just need to unwind." She stretched and then drew him into an embrace. "Are you going to stay with me, or do you have work to do?"

"Both. I will say with you while I finish reviewing the inventory reports."

She grinned and ordered two beverages from the small replicator near her bed. One was rooibos, the other was a hot chocolate complete with marshmallows and whipped cream. He watched her with a brow raised as she took the second cup from the machine. "Your mom was by earlier and she talked it up. I think thanks to her, I'll be bingeing for a while. I even had marble cake for dessert today."

"Are you suggesting that mother is a negative influence on you?"

"Just the opposite." She sipped carefully at the drink, making a slurping sound. He noticed that there was a spot of cream on her nose. He promptly wiped it away with his thumb.

They sat next to each other, leaning against her head board. He used the extremely practical stylus that his in-laws had sent him to authorize or deny requests for additional supplies and equipment. He was grateful to have his own engraved stylus since there always seemed to be a shortage of them on the ship, further evidenced by the fact that every department had ordered additional writing instruments.

"I simply do not understand where they go."

"What's that, K'diwa." She looked up from her news feed to meet his eyes. The scent of chocolate was on her breath—all over the room to be precise—but he endeavored to disregard it.

"Styluses. There never seem to be enough of them. I am constantly ordering and reordering styluses."

"Oh, people probably forget they have them and take them back to their rooms, or lose them in the mess hall, or the rec room…that problem goes back to when pencils were still made with real lead."

"It is tedious." He scrawled his signature at the bottom of the document and sent the request to command. In a moment of relaxed judgment, he asked her to describe the flavor of her beverage. The smell was too interesting to ignore forever. And he'd been curious about it ever since his mother informed him that he would come to no harm by partaking.

"It tastes like chocolate."

"I have never ingested any cocoa based food or beverages. Such a description is unhelpful."

"Do you want to taste it?"

"No."

"Okay." She began reading her feed again; shaking her head and frowning at some point in an article she disagreed with. "That's ridiculous. I bet whoever wrote this had never been any further than the lunar colony" she muttered to herself.

"Yes."

"What?"

"I've changed my mind. I will try it."

She smiled and passed him the beverage without really looking at him. He found her temporary inattention most opportune.

The aroma was heady and bold. He hesitated for only a second before tilting the cup and letting the warm liquid touch his lips and flow over his tongue. It was a completely foreign taste, simultaneously sweet and bitter. Indeed the only word to describe it was chocolaty. He took a second sip and a third, until he'd inadvertently emptied the mug.

Absently, she reached for her drink on the bedside table and belatedly recalled that she'd given it to Spock. "Honey, are you done with it?"

"Quite." He handed her the hollow cup and she stared at it in disbelief.

"I take it that you liked it?"

"It was delicious!"

Her eyes darted from left to right and she examined him more closely. Was he…smiling? "Okay. Good. But didn't you tell me Vulcans didn't eat chocolate. That it's—"

"An intoxicant." He was obviously trying to get his expression back in order, but he found the effort amusing. He tucked his lips to suppress a laugh, but he was failing.

She laughed out loud. "You are so cute!" She stroked the side of his face and he covered her hand with his.

"You're gorgeous. I don't think I've said that out loud, and I have been remiss. You're stunning."

"You keep this up and I'm going to start spiking your coffee."

"You wouldn't."

"I might."

He chuckled and kissed her gently, tenderly. "I believe that it doesn't matter what you do. I can probably forgive you for anything."

His laugh was the most startling and yet fulfilling sound she'd ever heard. His eyes were glittering with mirth and adoration. She never though she'd see that expression on his face, but it was spectacular.

"So you'll forgive me for taking advantage of your compromised state?"

"Especially for that." He kissed her again, sweetly, languidly. "Have I ever told you, Ms. Uhura, that you are an attractive young lady? Have you ever been in love?"

She giggled, instantly recalling that ridiculous conversation on the bridge. "Once. With the most amazing being in the galaxy."

"Who is he? I shall challenge him!"

"Oh, Spock."

"Did you know that Vulcan has no moon?"

"So I've been told."

"But the sunset is wonderful; I can't wait to take you to see it."

"Neither can I."

"We should dance. I have often seen human couples engaged in such activity and wondered after the sensations involved in the act. Dance with me?"

"Nothing would make me happier." She said sincerely.

He flashed another beautiful grin before standing and turning on her music player. It was already cued up to "Our Love is Here to Stay" by Louis Armstrong and Ella Fitzgerald, one of her favorites. They had listened to the song no less than a hundred times before.

She took his hands and placed them on her waist, and snaked her arms around his neck. "Hold me tight." He followed instructions quickly. She laid her head on his chest and swayed, letting him catch on. "Now just, feel the music. Let it move you."

"It is you who moves me."

"You're one smooth Vulcan."

He dropped his hands to her hips and nuzzled the crown of her head. She started to sing and was flabbergasted when he joined her. His singing voice was a deep baritone and yet very soft, coming on a whisper. She was determined not to make any sudden movement, lest he come to his senses.

She was completely satisfied with their life as it typically was. But this was the kind of night she thought she'd never have with him. It was a privilege.

"I love you." She said quietly.

"The _feeling_ is quite mutual, Ashal-veh."

* * *

><p>TBC.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Thank you all for your kind responses. I'm deeply appreciative. Sadly, ST isn't mine.

_Italics indicates dialogue that is exchanged telepathically._

* * *

><p>He never regretted his heightened senses until that very moment. He could literally hear the engines firing, like being aware of every particle of matter as it collided with its counterpart. The pain in his head was splitting…or was it pounding…maybe it was shooting. He attempted to sit up but all his limbs were leaden and the walls would not remain still.<p>

His wits returned much slower than they ought. He craned his neck to see the now empty mug responsible for his current state. He also saw his wife sleeping peacefully, totally unaware of his extreme discomfort. His internal clock—which was woefully imprecise—informed him that he had something like three hours until he had to report.

He tried again to rise, and managed to achieve a sitting position. The task was so draining that he had to drop his head into his hands, with his elbows propped on his knees. The effort woke Nyota.

"Spock?" She hadn't spoken loudly, intellectually he knew that, but it was as if she were screaming at him, directly in his ear. He winced against the resulting spike in his headache. She was silenced when he put his index finger over his lips, a human gesture but most effective.

She called to him again through the bond, her mental voice just above a whisper. It was preferable. _"Are you okay?"_

"_No."_

He felt her shift behind him, jostling him and inciting a great wave of nausea. She gently placed a hand on the back of his head. For no reason at all, this seemed to help. _"You're hung-over._ Poor thing."

"_Indeed."_

"_Maybe we should get you to sick bay…"_

He would have rather die from this affliction than have McCoy know anything about it. _"No. I will…meditate." _But focusing was almost impossible. All he could bring himself to think about was the pain in his head, and the strange texture of his tongue, and the fact that he very much wanted to lay back down—or regurgitate.

"_No, listen. You lay down. I'll get you something. I'll only tell the Doctor that you have a headache, I won't say why. Just rest." _She eased him back until he made contact with the pillow. She dressed as quietly as possible—though not quietly enough—and disappeared through the accursed hissing door.

"Good morning, Doctor!" Uhura greeted as she entered the sickbay.

"Morning can't be too good if you're here to see me this early."

"I need a headache suppressant—for Spock."

"For Spock?"

"Yes Doctor. He woke with a headache."

"Well, that's a first." Bones swiveled in his chair and stood, moving to the cabinet. "He can't Vulcan his way out of this one?"

"It's only logical to take medication when it may aide in one's recovery."

He rolled his eyes and adjusted a hypo to a dosage appropriate for his height, weight and species. He handed it to her with a smile and she accepted it in kind. "Now, I'm authorizing you, as his wife to administer this. One clean shot, right behind his pointy ear. You remember your basic med training." He went into his desk drawer and pulled out a PADD. "You have to fill this out before I can let you leave."

The form required that she sign her name in acknowledgement that she had received the medication. It listed the name of the drug and the dosage being administered, and by whom.

She selected her relation to the patient in the drop down menu. It was incredibly extensive considering how many different familial configurations there were in the Federation. Notably missing was the option of bond-mate. "Our status isn't here, Doctor."

"Every status is there. Why can't you just put spouse?"

"That's not completely accurate. We're bond-mates in that we have a telepathic connection. That may be medically relevant at some point during our service."

"You sound more and more like him every day, I swear. Alright, put spouse for now, and I'll make a note in both of your charts."

"Thank you, Doctor."

His voice stopped her from crossing the threshold. "Tell him I hope he feels better."

"I will."

On the way back she got him an extra uniform from his room, along with incense and his most portable asenoi. When she got back to quarters, she sat the fire pot on her table and lit it. The spicy, natural scent of incense filled the room. Already, it seemed to be helping him center, calling to his mind above the din of the aching.

She crept over to the bed and sat on the edge. She gingerly stroked his arm. He tried to turn to face her but she stopped him.

"_I told the doctor you have a headache and that it was only logical to take meds if you need them. He said that he hopes you feel better. I'm supposed to give you this."_ She pressed the hypo to the proper spot and triggered the spray. _"I already set up the asenoi for you. I'm getting in the shower. Are you going to be okay?"_

"_As long as you refrain from singing, I believe I will be fine."_

"_Okay. Let me know if you need anything." _She kissed the side of his head and disappeared into the bathroom.

He lay as still as possible as the medication took effect. It eased the pounding and he was able to put himself into to a light trance through meditation. He focused on banishing his queasiness and returning to optimal functionality. Most often, the mind was stronger than the body. He hoped that this was one of those times.

By the time she was done in the bathroom, he was sitting on the floor in front of her desk, completing his morning meditations. She definitely could've used some of that Vulcan will power back in college.

She grinned softly and grabbed her earpiece off the night stand. There was still an hour and fifteen minutes until duty. She had a few transmissions she wanted to review before she took the bridge. And she discovered that the more occupied she was with technical things while he was meditating the more successful it was for him.

At length, she felt him reaching for full consciousness. He managed to leash the remaining symptoms of his ailment.

"Feeling better, Honey?"

"Yes."

"I guess you won't be doing that again anytime soon, huh?"

"I reflected on that very matter. I believe that because it was my first time, I over indulged. Perhaps moderation will lessen the severity of the effects."

"Maybe." She put the work aside went to sit across from him, cross legged. "Or maybe I'm all the chocolate you can handle." The look on her face let him know he was missing something important. But she seemed to find his confusion endearing as she giggled.

* * *

><p>Their shift was relatively mundane, but productive. Together, they were able to identify the problem with the translator and correct it. They had also dropped off all but four of the delegations. <em>Enterprise<em> was that much closer to ending its chauffeur service and getting back to exploring. No one was more excited by the idea than the Captain.

He was not shy about mentioning it when he took lunch with Spock and Bones in the Captain's mess.

"I'm with you, Jim. The stress getting to you too, Spock? The missus was by at the crack of dawn getting you a headache suppressant. Did it work?"

"Headache? That's my thing. You okay?"

"Yes, gentlemen, I am fine. Your part in my recovery is most appreciated, Doctor."

"Don't mention it. You wife's the real hero, staggering down to sickbay at that ungodly hour for _you_.I still can't believe that out of the tree of us, you're the one with the woman."

"Your belief or disbelief does not alter the facts, Doctor."

"How do you do it, though?" Jim asked, leaning forward in his seat. "How do you keep it so under wraps that most of the ship still doesn't know?"

"I am by nature less demonstrative than my human counterparts. This accounts for much of our discretion."

"But Uhura is a very feminine, affectionate woman. How…"

"We make it work, Captain." His mind instantly flashed back to the night before. He had been quite open in his affection—creative even. He sensed her shield against him when she caught the flow of his thoughts, but not before sending him something that inexplicably _felt_ like a wink. He cleared his throat and sipped his tea, turning his attention back to his friends who were looking at him questioningly.

"Yeah, I bet you do."

* * *

><p>The lights on the ship had been adjusted to reflect twilight on earth. She and Spock were in his quarters dressing for dinner with his parents. It was surprising how easily they'd fallen into this routine, and briefly she wondered what life would be like for them after the completion of the mission. But she barely remembered what it was like to be a civilian so she abandoned the musings.<p>

She covered her hair with an ornately patterned scarf, twisted and wrapped like a halo. She slipped on two gold cuff bracelets and added a wide collar necklace. Her dress was black and strapless, well-fitting but not tight. She turned away from the mirror to face her husband, "How do I look?"

She saw him working for the least emotive word he could find. "You look…" He blinked and angled his head, almost like a tick. "You look most agreeable." She nodded and smiled, realizing the small battle that had just been waged and which side of him had won.

She took a second to examine him then. He was wearing Vulcan clothes, a tailored coppery silk tunic and matching pants. It was only lightly embellished at the cuff with a narrow band of scrolling designs. For a split second she was overwhelmed with how gorgeous and otherworldly he looked. He literally looked like a dream, like he might disappear if she breathed too hard.

"You look most agreeable as well, Commander."

He extended his middle and index fingers to her and she accepted. She was suffused with the glow of his fondness and contentment. She answered with love and unbounded admiration. His forehead dropped to hers and felt his breath shudder against her face.

"We must go," he informed her without moving.

"Grab the Ka'athyra." It was a legitimate chore for her to pull away, but she did so. "I told Mom that I would sing while you played."

"Very well." He straightened, rid his face of any expression, picked up his lyre, and led the way.

After dinner, Spock lifted his instrument into his lap and singled his wife with a curt nod. He began to strum one of his mother's favorite earth tunes. It was light and whimsical, and the lyrics made no sense at all to him. But he'd learned it as a boy to please her. And on the occasions when he was able to detect her loneliness he would sit next to her on the divan. She would rest with her feet drawn up under her and he would play. She would smile at him—she was the only person who ever truly smiled at him when he was a child—and sometimes she would sing along.

Nyota did the song justice, not only technically, but she infused every note with the emotions they were supposed to carry. His mother rewarded them with her bright spectacular grin and by chiming in herself. It was a moment of mutual satisfaction.

* * *

><p>TBC...but we're getting there!<p> 


	7. Chapter 7

Sarek had been cleared for physical activity by his healer via comm. Spock joined his father in sparring; playing whatever part he could in his recovery. They started with hand to hand and graduated to mock lirpas.

Sarek had been the one to instruct Spock in martial arts from the beginning. As a child, he was determined, but his strength wasn't equal to his peers. He had particular trouble with the nerve pinch. Still, they both kept at it, training every day for hours. All the healers and Doctors only said that his development was impeccable for a hybrid. His mental capabilities were impressive. None of them could account for this physical deficiency. Amanda insisted that, like a human child, puberty would come in his teenage years and he would be fine.

That was when Sarek learned not to underestimate what she called mother's intuition. In his thirteenth (earth) year everything changed. All of a sudden, as if overnight, he developed muscle tone. He got taller, faster, and stronger. His psi rating went from high to on par with priests and healers.

Spock became so adept at the martial arts that he took up the study of them and eventually his skill surpassed his father. That was evident now. Sarek could tell his son was going easy on him—like some frail old man.

It certainly didn't seem that way to Jim and Bones as they entered the gym. Spock knocked his father in the chest with the blunt end of the lirpa and he stumble back a step, swinging the dulled blade at him. After a flurry of moves that were blurred by their robes, the younger man had his opponent on the ground. But before he could deliver a decisive strike, his feet were swept from under him and he was flat. Sarek pinned his son with the bar of the weapon against his neck—not applying any pressure. Spock flipped them and immediately brought the blade down right beside his father's ear.

He got to his feet and extended his hand to the other Vulcan.

"That was a most satisfactory match, Sa-fu." He said standing and smoothing his clothes.

"Indeed, Sa-mekh. Unfortunately there are no opponents so challenging on this ship."

"It is agreeable that you still consider our sessions to be a challenge. I believe my recent inactivity affected my performance."

"A distinct possibly."

"You understand any of that, Jim" McCoy asked on a whisper.

"No. But I can only imagine. I used to race my father on horseback. It's probably their version of some good-natured ribbing."

"I don't think they do that on his planet."

"Quite right, Doctor. Such an interaction is illogical. It is also illogical that you constantly forget that I can hear you."

"Oh, I don't forget, I just know there's no risk of hurting your feelings."

The Captain spoke before their exchange went any further. "It's good to see you're well, Ambassador." It was even better to see him with Spock. When he first boarded the ship he would even let him give their party the tour.

"Indeed, Captain It is good to be well."

"Just so you know, Vulcan is our last stop. We'll be in orbit for about three hours while we beam up some supplies. If you want to beam down, Spock you'll be free to do so."

"Very well, Captain. That is agreeable."

"All right, come on. Let's get this workout out to the way before I change my mind!" McCoy mumbled, moving toward the treadmills.

"Alright, Bones, alright."

The ambassador looked confused as they walked through the corridors back to their respective quarters.

"Something troubles you?"

"Why is the Doctor called Bones? Is his name not Leonard McCoy?"

"Indeed, I have yet to get a satisfactory answer on that matter myself. But in my experience humans dispense what they call nicknames quite liberally. There is no logic behind the practice."

"Have you been assigned one of these nicknames?"

"None that bear repeating."

"I see." They walked in silence for another short while before Sarek spoke again. "I believe that we should contact T'pau. She is aware of your bond and has expressed concern that it has yet to be validated by a healer."

"Such as herself?"

"Most likely. I am inclined to agree that it must be authenticated so that it can be recognized by the laws of our people. It is obvious that the bond was correctly installed, that is not in question."

Spock nodded. Of course he had done it correctly. T'pau herself had taken charge of many of his mental disciplines after it became apparent that he would need advanced instruction. But it was true that they needed to have it validated. By earth standards they were legally bound. Now it was time to ensure that the same thing held true on Vulcan.

Nyota was somewhat taken aback by the idea when he presented it to her. "You mean we're not married on Vulcan?!" There was a fire in her voice that he knew he needed to extinguish quickly.

"Our bond is common knowledge within my clan, and the bond is completely legitimate and indisputable. However, it must be evaluated by a third party to achieve legal status. This will inaugurate you into my family and entitle you to my ancestral lands and assets. It is vital. I simply was unaware that we would have such an opportunity before the end of our mission."

"Okay," she nodded, her tone softening. "Mama and Baba are not going to happy that we're having another ceremony that they can't attend." She pressed a hand to her forehead and perched the other on her hip. He'd come to recognize this as a stance of mild distress. He extended his hand to her and she accepted, relaxing her posture.

"It is not logical for them to travel all the way to Vulcan to observe a procedure that will likely last less than twenty minutes."

"I know, I'm just telling you." She sighed before meeting his eyes with a solemn expression. "And you know that I've never been concerned about land and assets, Don't you? I'd have married you even if you didn't own a grain of sand."

He did know, but he thought fleetingly of T'Pring's careful angling to make sure she acquired his name and all that came with it. It was reassuring to hear Nyota express her sincerity so openly.

"Of course. You have ancestral lands and assets of your own. But you are my wife, and as such, these things are as much yours as they are mine. I only wish for you to have everything that you are due."

She nodded and laced their fingers. "Mama's going to insist on a huge reception and we've not going to be able to get out of it."

"I have ample time to prepare myself."

"There is no way to prepare yourself for my family."

"It is a good thing that I do not experience fear. Otherwise I may be terrified."

Uhura beamed and shook her head. "I love you."

* * *

><p>Later, they were in the conference room reviewing the logistics for retrieving the supplies. Given the size of the shipment, it would actually be faster and more efficient to dispatch a shuttle. Nyota was taking notes on the plans being made, while simultaneously reviewing Vulcan orbiting procedures. The whole thing would take a little longer than they originally thought, due to a forecasted sand fire, but no longer than six hours.<p>

While the yeoman read the established plans aloud, Spock caught the sound of his wife's breathing. He heard her release something that was almost, but not quite a sigh.

He had never experienced inspiration before. He had long since written it off as an abstract human phenomenon. But when he heard the sound, he was sure that he'd just been inspired. His mind instantly made an association that had no logical basis, but was appropriate nonetheless.

What his father's intricate song needed was not an equally complex ending, it need to breathe. He could never explain it reasonably, but the song needed air.

When the meeting was over he moved rather quickly to his parent's guest quarters. He did not chime or knock, simply stepped through the unlocked door. Decisively, he grabbed Sarek's harp and began to improvise a conclusion. He took the last note that his father had written and let it ring out before he added a series of lingering notes whose vibrations clung to the instrument's stings.

Sarek appeared in the archway that separated the sleeping area from the sitting room. It had been decades since he'd seen the look, but Spock could tell that his father was impressed and pleased.

"I believe that I have solved our problem." He said, trying his best not to be smug.

"It would seem so. Play it through." He did as he was told; playing the intense baroque melody. The arrangement was practically brutal, leaving no room for error or faltering. But he recreated the sounds exactly as they had been intended.

Then came the musical breath that he'd infused into it. The melody stretched out, rising and falling like a sleeping person's chest. And so the last note soared out into the room, and gently cascaded to the floor.

Surely, neither of them was _moved_ but the familial bond was alive and thrumming with activity.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes will now be at the bottom in an effort to make them less obtrusive. <strong>

Thank you all again for your kind and encouraging words. Your comments help me stay sharp and keep the story going in the right direction. ST is not mine.

Honestly, I think that for my story's purposes, Spock and Sarek will reach more of an understanding than a definite resolution. But we'll see. Next stop, Vulcan!


	8. Chapter 8

For the last night, Uhura wanted to treat Amanda to a good old fashioned sleep over. She invited Charlene to complete the ensemble and she fit right in. Nyota sat on the floor in front of her bed, while Charlene parted and platted her hair into cornrows. All three of them were alternating their attentions between each other and the romantic comedy on in front of them, snacking on food with absolutely no nutritional value. "Why are you doing this," Masters asked tugging at her hair. "It's not like Vulcan is going to be humid."

"Since when are you such an expert on my husband's planet?"

"My fourth year survival training was on Vulcan. Hotter than hell, but it had the most beautiful architecture—what I got to see of it. I was only in the citadel for a few minutes."

"I'm afraid she's right, dear. The heat is _not_ exaggerated, neither is the gravity."

"Vulcan is quite literally hot and heavy! But there's almost no moisture in that dessert air. So why the protective style?"

"It has nothing to do with humidity. I don't want to sweat my hair out before I meet the most important woman on Vulcan! Mom, just what should I be expecting from T'pau?"

Amanda let out a heavy sigh and paused the vid. "She's Sarek's mother. And for a Vulcan, she's extremely protective of her son, Spock too. She was one of the loudest voices telling him that to truly be Vulcan, he must abandon his humanity. I understand that she thought it was for his own good, really the Vulcan way _is_ a better way…but it drove me crazy anyway." She made a gesture that looked like she wanted to tear her hair out. Uhura put a sympathetic hand on her knee.

"She's going to hate me, isn't she?"

"No, she can't _hate_ anyone, but please don't be surprised by her disapproval. Just don't smile—which won't be hard once she opens her mouth. And don't talk back, no matter what she says. Don't hedge, answer all her questions directly."

"But this is _the _T'pau?" Charlene chimed in. "Like the T'pau that took on a corrupt High Command and effectively returned Vulcan to the true ways of Surak, with the help of Jonathan Archer? The same T'pau from my history textbook is Mr. Spock's grandma?!"

"Yes, and she's a purist. So at least when you're around her, put on your best Vulcan face, Nyota"

Uhura decide that the mood was getting too serious, so she practiced her Vulcan face. She broke out into a stupid grin and then ran her hand over her face, straightening her features to betray nothing. She dropped her head to the side the way her husband did and adjusted her cadence to match his. "In this manner, Ko-mehk?"

Amanda chortled until she snorted, which made everyone laugh harder. "Yes, just like that, Ko-fu!"

* * *

><p>It was early morning on Vulcan when they arrived in orbit. Spock would shuttle down with the Vulcan delegation in the Galileo to oversee the supply pickup while Uhura and Amanda would beam down directly in front of their estate, to get a head start on the few preparations.<p>

He met her in the transporter room looking resplendent in ornate robes. The clothes swept behind him, making him look like he was gliding. He even wore heavy jewelry with big opaque gemstones. He looked like the son of the man who represented his entire planet to the Federation. He looked like the grandson of the woman who saved Vulcan from degradation. He looked like a decedent of Surak.

For the first time in almost forever, she felt insecure. She felt that way so infrequently, he originally thought the sensation in the bond was coming from him. He gave her a puzzled expression.

She suppressed the strange emotion by reminding herself that she was the daughter of Angaza Uhura, who held more patents than antiquity's Thomas Edison. Moreover, she was an officer of the Starfleet, important and accomplished in her own right. Chief of communications on a flagship! Not to mention the only human to ever learn to play the ka'athyra."_No one can make you feel inferior without you consent."_ She reminded herself just before she dematerialized.

The first thing she noticed was indeed the heat. She looked at her mother-in-law wide eyed as she felt every ounce of energy being drained from her.

"It's not that bad. The sun is just coming up. This is mild."

"I'm going to die before I ever get to meet, T'pau!"

"No, the house is right here."

She turned around and saw a structure, but it could hardly be described as a house. It was massive, reaching up into the apricot colored sky. The building was an elaborate organic shape, which contrasted with the metal and glass construction. There were huge windows, divided into complex geometric panes. All the reflective surfaces glittered in the morning light. The palace—that's what she decided it was—looked like an uncut gem, left on the desert floor.

They walked across a gorgeous courtyard, adorned with sculptures. Some of them abstract, others of them, hooded figures with their heads bent and hands pressed together as if in prayer. Small replicas of the monuments they kept on the volcanic ridge. The paving stones were imported, white limestone from earth.

"How beautiful!"

"There's a lot more land that belongs to them" Amanda made a broad sweeping gesture. "This is the human-friendly house that Sarek built me after we married. And thank goodness. It has a lot of the comforts of home."

They went from the courtyard to an atrium. The floors were a highly polished, material. Almost like mirrored marble. Exotic plants were placed all around and there was a spectacular fountain in middle of the room, with dozens of spouts, splitting into detailed fractals.

"My mama would be in love with everything here." She made a slow, awed turn to take everything in.

"Well, I'll just have to invite her won't I?"

"She'll come." Uhura warned, stopping abruptly.

It was considerably cooler in the house, more like the climate she was used to. Three of the room's four walls were glass and so she took this time to look out to the mountains in the distance. They were majestic, reminding her of Mount Mumpu, but taller still. They were deceptively sturdy looking. She knew that this was one of the most seismically active planets in the Federation. They could tremble and shake; they could tumble if they wanted to.

Still, as she examined them, she could see why Spock had always been of fond of them as a child. They were like silent guardians. They had been there from the beginning, when the sands were saturated with split blood. Compared with all they had seen, he wasn't so ghastly . The mountains accepted him without question or prejudices. They never required he be anything but himself. Nature was an equalizer and therefore, his best friend as a boy.

Being here was helping her to understand him better than she already did. And she was starting to wish that they had more time.

"Ready?"

"Yes." She followed her mother-in-law inside. There were lush, heavy furnishings. There was a delicate balance being struck throughout the entire house. Traditional and modern accoutrements, Vulcan and Terran.

"I think we're the only house on the planet with throw pillows." Amanda joked as they passed the sofa. "They're terribly illogical."

The tour went on and ended in Spock's room. The first thing she thought was that it was wonderfully decorated. The walls were practically littered with vicious looking ancient weapons. Along with the knives and maces were pieces of Vulcan art that looked like they belonged in a museum. There was also scientific equipment in almost every corner and a stack of PADDs that was probably exactly where he'd left them on the day he left.

Much like on the ship, he'd hung heavy red curtains. Even the ceiling was draped with them, making the space warm and familiar. He had tiny figurines, some of which she recognized as the great Vulcan himself. There was a small prism, covered in glyphs, sitting prominently on the bed side table.

"That's a facsimile of the Kir'shara. T'pau gave it to him after he completed the kaswan. It works." His mother touched the piece and it lit up, projecting a spectacular display of Vulcan script. "It's his most prized possession."

The younger woman was still trying to recover from this intimate look into Spock's childhood when she deactivated the relic and abruptly changed the subject. "I had T'lin go and get you some robes to choose from for the ceremony. They should be here," she opened the wardrobe and as expected, there were at least five sets to choose from.

"They're all so exquisite. I don't know…what's the fashion?"

Amanda grabbed one that was a deep emerald and royal blue. The veil was a silvery silk, so finely woven that it was transparent. "This is the fashion. On Vulcan, these are bold colors, similar to red on earth. This is more traditional." She held up a different set that was a neutral brown with rich coppery accents. The outer coat was hooded and there was no veil.

"Which will be less distasteful to T'pau?"

"After aluminum swatch that T'pring showed up in? I think any of these is a step up! Pick what you like." She kept talking as her daughter-in-law investigated the closet. "When she came home after the challenge, that was the closest I've ever seen her to angry. I was absolutely livid! Sarek sent me to our room to meditate," she chuckled.

"You got grounded, Mom?"

She crossed her arms and shrugged. "It was worth it."

Nyota chose the first set and Amanda helped her get dressed. The primary garment was a deep green full-length wrap dress, belted with a dark blue sash and secured with a beautiful broach. The second piece, the blue overcoat, had wide, flowing sleeves that reminded her of butterfly wings. They tied wrapping the head covering a few different ways, but decided on an old Hollywood style in the end. A very small nod to her earth heritage.

Her mother-in-law walked her through the ceremony, taught her exactly how to kneel and tried to describe what T'pau's mental hand would feel like.

T'lin found them like that, Nyota kneeling before Amanda with the older woman's hands placed haphazardly on her face—nowhere near her actual psi points—and imitating the lilt of T'pau's accented English.

"My Lady Amanda," at the sound of her voice, a look of shock and embarrassment passed quickly over the new human's face before she rose with impressive grace from the floor. She schooled her features into neutrality. "The Lady T'Pau has arrived and awaits you both in the main room."

"Acknowledged." Amanda waited until the Vulcan left the room to continue speaking. "They don't say thank you. Expressing gratitude is a human habit. If T'pau manages to say something complimentary, do not thank her."

"Mom, I'm worried. What if—"

"You and Spock are bonded. That is a fact that she must accept whether it meets her approval or not. There's no need to worry. The bond will be legalized and then you and Spock will be out of here on the first thing smoking."

"Okay." She sighed. "We can do this." She squeezed her hand briefly and they left the room.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:**Thanks again to everyone who has favorited, followed, read and reviewed. I greatly appreciate it. I had trouble with this chapter, but I hope it meets your approval. Please let me know what you think. ST isn't mine, I just think about it a lot.

TBC.


	9. Chapter 9

**Note:** _Italics indicates dialogue exchanged telepathically. _

* * *

><p>T'Pau sat in her son's home and suppressed her first sigh in nearly half a century. For such a thing to happen once was more than enough. For it to happen twice was unnerving to say the least.<p>

In hindsight, she should have expected such a thing of Sarek. He was rebellious and impulsive. He had a habit of making decisions and letting the logic follow. He was always hesitant to justify his actions, usually feeling that he shouldn't have to. She still remembered the day he'd presented her with Sybok, with little explanation as to his conception.

"The child has been conceived and his mother is incapable of caring for him, therefore the duty falls solely upon me. All other facts are irrelevant." She had been unable to furnish a reply.

"As ambassador to Earth, it is vital that I have an intimate working knowledge of their cultural nuances. This will also make me more relatable to Terrans, which has been a considerable challenge to date. Marrying Amanda is the only logical course of action."

She presented him with a bevy of reasons why it was still unfavorable. But he was immovable on the subject. And he got his way as he always did. That was what made him a superior diplomat.

But Spock had been an exemplary child, despite his occasional displays of emotions. These lapses only ever served to make him more eager to please. She had performed innumerable melds in her lifetime, and never had she entered a mind as well ordered and compartmentalized as his. His thoughts were sharp and warm, powerful. Much like the sand fire that would soon be upon the capital. That kind of mind would be an asset to any Vulcan mate. Could a human even fully appreciate such excellence?

Yet, she had sensed, early on, a sort of turmoil in him. War raged inside him constantly. He wanted to be two things and in the end only ever decided that he wasn't enough of either. She knew that the only way to stop the battle in him was for one side to conquer the other. She had tried to tell him, to prove to him, that he _was_ Vulcan. No amount of illogical taunts could alter such a simple fact. She wanted to be that constant and assuring voice for her brilliant and tortured progeny.

This human wife he'd taken would only further facilitate this duality. But, as she heard the soft rustle of silken robes, she decided that there was little that could actually be done. She had little confidence that this woman was worthy, and if she wasn't T'Pau was determined to make her so.

The first figure she saw was Amanda. She had learned how to prevent projecting her emotions long ago. There was only one she hadn't managed to leash. She could detect the low hum of her love, be it for Sarek, Skybok or Spock. If the present feeling in the air was any indication, she felt the same way for her son's wife.

"Mother." She gave the traditional greeting and inclined her head minutely before sitting on the sofa adjacent to her chair.

Not far behind her was the other Earth woman. The first thing she noted was her complexion. Spock had a predilection for nature, and her skin was the color of a Vulcan cliff face at mid-day. The arrangement of her features was symmetrical—aesthetically pleasing on all counts. Her clothing was bold, blue like her planet and a hot blood green.

The next thing she examined was her walk. She took the even, militarized steps of a soldier—her Starfleet discipline was evident. And still the sway of her form, especially in her hips, softened her and sensualized her. There was a musicality in her gait that was enrapturing.

T'Pau noted that all of her male attendants—save the two that had chosen the kolinahr—inspected her closely as she moved. She was so very female.

"Ko'mekh-il," she offered as she held up the appropriate salutation. "Ha'tha ti'lu."

"Ha'tha ti'lu, be seated." She smoothed her skirts out before she sat and proceeded to cross her legs at the ankles. She laced her fingers and placed them primly on her lap. No nervous fiddling. "Thee are called?"

"I am Nyota Uhura. Lieutenant, Nyota Uhura."

"Thy Starfleet background nullifies my need to inquire after how you came to be in Spock's company. And yet, there must be other women on the ship? Why did he choose thee?"

Her eyes slid to Amanda who was thinking that T'Pau had gotten better—or worse—at this since she was forced to face the inquisition. She righted her expression and locked her gaze with the ancient woman's.

"Respectfully, Grandmother, I am unable to respond to your query as I myself do not have that information. Only Spock could answer such a question with certainty."

She nodded. Well done.

"Thee are aware that this is one of the oldest and most prominent clans in the system. Arguably, the Federation. What are thee able to offer Spock that he does not have or could not obtain for himself?"

"It is true that materially, there is very little that I can give him. There is only one thing that has been in short supply in Spock's life. It is my goal to provide him with this in abundance."

"What do thee believe he has been lacking?"

"Unconditional—"

Here it was. Her ridiculous declaration of human love.

"—acceptance. A true and untainted sense of belonging. Grandmother, his mixed heritage is of little consequence to me. He is Vulcan. He is Human. But both of these facts pale in comparison to the fact that he is _Spock._ I aim to give him the freedom and the forum to simply _be_."

She had no reply. She only blinked. Amanda ducked her head and fought a smile. She rendered T'Pau speechless. If only she had met Uhura years earlier!

* * *

><p>The trip into the mountains was quick, but incredible. T'pau had opted for separate transport. Their flitter was spacious and had large windows. Nyota watched as the capital shrank beneath them and the mountains grew so close she could make out the patterns the sandy winds had drawn.<p>

"There," Amanda said pointing out the soaring bridges that had been hewn out from the rocks. Connecting them all was a platform that looked like it rose hundreds of feet from the ground. "The place of koonut kalifee. It's been in the clan for more than two millennia."

They landed on a section of flat land, just outside of a cave. The space was massive and surprisingly modernized with lights and a well-furnished sitting area. It was cool, protected from the angry sun. "We wait here until we hear the kep, the gong." Her mother-in-law explained.

She was doing her best not to fidget. She had no idea why she was nervous; it wasn't like it was their first ceremony. But the fluttering beat of her heart refused to listen to reason. There was something so formal and sacred about this. She absolutely couldn't cry, but the gravity of the situation hit her then. She would be inducted into this ancient family, only the second human to be granted such an honor.

"It's a lot." A warm, soft hand reached out to grab hers. "But it is so worth it. There is no force stronger than a vulcan's devotion." She turned to face her full on, taking her other hand too. "Nyota, sweetie, I can't lie to you—I've been living on this planet too long—it won't be easy. You're both going to be aliens to each other—forever. Some things you just will _not_ understand. And that goes both ways" she chuckled. "But there is so, so much that I have gotten out of life with Sarek that would have been missing had I married anyone else. I know his affections aren't about to change, he almost never raises his voice…" Amanda moved one of her hands to her heart and her voice dripped with conviction. "He _lives_ in me. We _are _one. And in the end, while you will occasionally miss the hugs, and kisses, and smiles, the gooey poetry that earth men spout, you can always know that in a way…you have more than that."

"Thank you, Mom." Uhura ignored the cautious glances of the attendants and brought the other woman into an embrace.

The metallic sound of the gong rang out loud enough that even their human ears could hear. They rose and crossed the bridge, preceded by warrior-like men that shook the tickling bells and an enthroned T'pau.

Nyota kept her gaze straight, determined not to look over the side of the relatively narrow bridge. The sky had darkened to a blood orange. Alam'ak was bright and unrelenting.

The sound came again as they passed under the stone arch that led to the alter.

Her eyes settled instantly on Spock and she had to fight the urge to grin. He was every bit as princely as he'd been that morning, but the sun was casting marvelous shadows on his face and the hot, desert breeze was playing with his usually perfect hair. Both his eyebrows rose and she knew that meant he thought she looked beautiful.

T'Pau spoke the ritualistic words she had been taught to expect and he rang the jade colored gong a final time before going to kneel before T'pau. She moved to rest facing him and held her middle and index fingers to his. His mind was especially bright and welcoming.

"_I love you," _she said quickly, before their thoughts were open to his grandmother.

"_Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, Adun'a."_

It was strange, bordering on uncomfortable to have two people in her mind at one. And with the two of them as powerful as they were, she felt like she was at risk of being crowded out. The inspection of the connection was like having a single hair tugged, but not pulled.

" _I have never encountered an unauthenticated bond as strong as this. There is minimal separation between thy consciousnesses. This cannot ever be broken."_

"_We have no intention of ever attempting to do so." _Spock retorted. _"This fortitude is by my own design, Grandmother."_

"_Then thee have done well."_

Their mental voices echoed through her, making her feel somewhat empty. Emptiness wasn't something she could do again. His fingers pressed more firmly to hers, anchoring her in reality and pulling her from the danger of getting lost in these giants. She opened her eyes and found that he was watching her, diverting her attention from the scrutiny.

T'Pau did something; thought Nyota had no idea what and the link felt even stronger and more vital. Then the extraneous woman withdrew.

A hard breath escaped Uhura so fast that she almost pitched forward. She gasped, but there was almost no air to be had at this altitude and with this thin atmosphere. She trembled despite the heat.

Her husband was as close to frantic as he could be as he effectively ran a diagnostic on her. Physically, there was nothing wrong with her that wasn't to be expected in this environment. Mentally, she was exhausted and recovering from the shock. But there was no permanent damage done. His relief felt like a wave of cool ocean water breaking over her and went a long way to calm her.

"The bond is legitimate and recognized by the clan of Surak." The matriarch confirmed. "The woman Nyota is now, and shall forever remain, the property of S'chn T'gai Spock. This is unassailable and irreversible. Let it be known."

The word property made her itchy, but she knew this was one of those cultural quirks she had to accept without understanding.

The light bells rang out again and the strong sound of drums filled the vast space around them. It was nearly impossible for him to conceal his pride as he led her away.

"I wish we could stay." She confessed as they entered yet another cavern. She allowed herself a moment to take in her surroundings. This one was deeper and looked more like a dwelling. Her brow winkled slightly in confusion. "What is this place?"

"The place of…consummation."

"Oh yeah?" She bit her lip coyly.

"Traditionally—"

"I've had enough tradition for one day, Mr. Spock."

"I am inclined to agree, Ms. Uhura. Although, these traditional garments compliment you immensely." He ran his hands slowly over the soft fabric. He finished his exploration, resting his hands on her hips, letting his fingers spread to graze her backside.

"You don't look bad yourself," she smoothed the imaginary wrinkles on his chest.

"We still have three hours and twenty six minutes until we must return to the ship."

"Oh, how ever will we kill all that time?"

"I believe I have several useful ideas. Allow me to…" he ghosted his lips across hers, "brief you."

"I'm a hands-on learner, Commander." Uhura started on the hook and eye clasps of his tunic, reveling in the feeling of his faltering breath on her face. "I believe that I'll require a full demonstration." She deepened the kiss, finding him hotter than his sweltering planet.

He pushed the cobalt overcoat onto the floor and fumbled on the delicate clasp of the broach. "Acknowledged," he murmured against her mouth, urging her further into the grotto.

* * *

><p>Shortly before they had to leave, they returned to the house. Something about watching Spock operate the hovercar was intoxicatingly domestic. She laid a hand on his thigh and put her head on his shoulder. His amusement and contentment coursed through their bond.<p>

"I don't want to go so soon. Look what you did!" She accused, sitting back to look at him in mock confrontation.

"What have I done, Ashal-veh?"

"Now, I have to be homesick for two places and miss two sets of parents."

"You have my most sincere apologies."

"Save it." She said as the vehicle lowered its self slowly in the drive way.

They went directly to the main room where Amanda and Sarek were sitting on the sofa. She was in casual terran clothing, curled on one side of the couch nursing a book and a cup of tea. Even his father seemed relaxed as he sipped his drink and looked at his PADD. At length, his mother looked up.

"We will be departing shortly. We have come to bid our farewells."

The seated couple stood and Amanda immediately attached herself to Nyota.

"Please, please be careful you two!"

"I trust that you will continue to practice that composition, Nyota."

"Yes, Sa-mekh." She turned her attention to the woman in her arms. "Oh mom, I'm going to miss you so much. Keep in touch, okay. And we'll be back before you know it."

"Of course." She finally let go and moved to stand before her son. "I'll see you later, Sa-fu."

"Yes mother."

"Spock-kam," He turned to the other Vulcan, barely able to mask his shock. Sarek took a deep breath before continuing, "Your safe return would be greatly appreciated."

"I will keep that in mind, Father."

"I love you!" The older woman added, no longer expecting a reply.

"We love you, too." Uhura smiled kissing her on the cheek.

He nodded curtly to his parents and got into position for transport, his wife following suit. "Spock to Enterprise. Two to beam up."

And with that command, they disappeared in a flutter of glinting light.

* * *

><p><strong>That's all folks. Hope you liked it. Thank you all for your kind reviews and for sticking with me. I greatly appreciate it.<strong>**These two still have a second trip to Vulcan and one to Africa, so stay tuned for that. Translations follow.**

**Kolinahr: **Rigorous training program at Gol to purge oneself of all emotion; **Ko'mekh-il: **Grandmother; **Ha'tha ti'lu: **Goodmorning; **Alam'ak: **sun - white eye/ 40 Eridani A; **Taluhk nash-veh k'dular, Adun'a: **I cherish thee, Wife.


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